Everything's Better with Weasleys
by Lahel
Summary: OC Insert as Ronald Weasley. Can't think of a good summary, will update later. Actually, can't think of a good title either... I'll have to change that someday.


**Don't own. Anyways, I couldn't get rid of a plot bunny, so here it is.**

Everything ended with the color red. In my first life, that is.

There was a fire in the office. People rushed to the stairs with no order, even though the guy on the loudspeaker said to go calmly. There was this little red-headed girl who pushed me aside on the stairway (and how pathetic is that?) and I stumbled. A big man rushed past me, scowling. I was pushed up against the wall, and had no room to move. My foot got stuck in the railing and I couldn't move. Nobody else bothered to help. I saw the fire advancing towards me from the bottom of the stairs, and I briefly wondered if everybody got out safely. I wondered if anybody would even notice me missing. Probably not, as I was not much of a social butterfly. It's sad to think that your existence meant nothing to people. I wonder… Will the child and man who got me in this position even recognize me? Would they feel guilty it was their fault I died? I bitterly hoped they did. I don't particularly feel like dying, if you know what I mean.

The fire was drawing closer. Joy. Scarlet flames licked up the sides of the staircase. The metal railing heated up, and I felt a searing pain on my foot, but I was just so tired, I couldn't bring myself to scream. That didn't mean I couldn't make sarcastic comments in my mind, of course. Resigned to my fate, I closed my eyes and let the red engulf me. On second thought, forget the part about not screaming. It hurt like hell.

Just realized… You don't even know who I am, but I thought you should feel pity for me. Sorry. My name is insignificant and I'm an insignificant person in general. I work as a doctor, but the office isn't too popular. There was a scandal a few years back regarding my colleague and a young nurse (don't ask. Just don't.) Since then, business had been poor. I didn't even finish paying off my debts from college…

I had a small, nuclear family consisting of 3 persons: my father, my mother, and myself. Both my parents worked a lot to sustain our lifestyle, and I was stuck at home doing chores. I didn't really mind much. It's not as if I had anything else I could do. I've never gotten along with other children. Everybody was so preoccupied with thoughts of themselves that they never paid attention to the odd child who stayed in the back of the classroom, _reading_ of all things. If I had a friend in my younger days, it'd undoubtedly be my school librarian, Miss Kate. She was my confidante in everything, from troubles at home to homework help. She introduced me to my favorite series, Harry Potter, in fact. That alone makes her the most amazing person I know. After graduating high school, I went to college on a partial scholarship and got a job that'd hopefully pay well. Now I see how well that turned out.

Enough of the pity party that is my life! You've seen my life, and you've seen my death. But you haven't seen my rebirth yet, have you? That was a rhetorical question, by the way.

Coincidentally, everything started with the color red. In my second life, that is.

I was pushed through what felt like a straw and was frighteningly cold. Something hit me on my bum and I started to cry, startled. You'd do the same. In fact, I know you did the same as you're breathing right now. I attempted to open my eyes only to be assaulted by a bright shade of red, same as the fire that killed me. My ears heard murmurs, but my head was still a mess from, you know, being born.

However, I caught one phrase.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," said a feminine voice.

My mind filled with happy lunch hours passed in the library with my nose inside various books, specifically a certain series. (That's a weird mental image if I've ever seen… imagined? one.) My tiny baby brain which apparently wasn't so tiny if I could think like a normal human connected the dots. Fire-red. Ronald. Weasley.

I was Harry Potter's best friend. Or, I would be, if everything happened the same way. Same difference.

The obvious question is, did I want everything to happen the same way? Ronald, despite his heroism and general awesomeness and ginger-ness, was pretty petty at times. Throwing away your best friend in a fit of jealousy during fourth year? I could understand everybody else being resentful of Harry, but Ron was supposed to be his best friend, one-third of the (in)famous Golden Trio! Sure, Harry wasn't exactly a saint all those years either (fifth year) but… if I had a friend as close as that, I'd like to think I'd never betray them. I don't have a lot of experience, but I want to think that. So, no going canon or whatnot.

I don't think I could handle sleeping in the same bed as Pettigrew (bad images, ugh) anyways.

But on the other hand, deviating from the norm can cause extreme changes. I'll try to be a better friend, but I wasn't going to change things so drastically that the timeline alters too much.

My body was carefully lifted (not that it made a difference in comfort) and put onto the belly of a woman. _My mother_, I realized. _Molly Weasley._ A nurse was flitting about me, and I recognized her motions as her taking notes. Probably for the Apgar score and whatnot. Do wizards use the same procedures as ordinary doctors? I looked back at the face before me. She was humming tiredly. Her eyes were drooping, but at the same time, filled with joy. For the first time, I noticed a man holding her hand. It was Mr. Weasley! Or, as I should call him now, Father.

I wondered who was taking care of the other children-my siblings, and wasn't that a strange thought?- now. Did the Weasleys hire a babysitter? Or did Bill, as the eldest (I think there was a 10 year age difference between him and Ron, that is me) take care of them all?

I don't know about you, but being born is tiring. I stopped thinking about all these technicalities and went to sleep.

* * *

The Apgar score is real, you know. It's something you do to a baby after they're born. It stands for Appearance, Pulse, Grimace, Activity, and Respiration. Just thought I'd put it out there. Ah, anyways... Review?


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